


Lover Boy

by pantheon_of_discord



Series: Even in the Quietest Moments [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again, Angst, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Pre-S13, idk cursing / language?, not that you're surprised at this point, post-12.23
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-17 12:53:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11851983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantheon_of_discord/pseuds/pantheon_of_discord
Summary: There's a club on the corner, and tonight he will go thereTo find a new affair - so all you ladies beware.





	Lover Boy

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't really plan for this to be a series, but words keep happening. 
> 
> [Lover Boy](https://open.spotify.com/track/7cWNiTWV2kSqBHtlMsE4zg) by Supertramp  
> [My tumblr.](https://pantheonofdiscord.tumblr.com)

Dean fucks a lot of women in the weeks after Cas dies.

Just bar flies, mostly. He runs through the clientele at the dive in Lebanon pretty quickly, so he starts driving out to Smith Center, to Belleville, even up to Hastings once.

It’s not that hard. He turns it on like he’s always done, dialing up the charm and the smiles, and counting on the fact that none of them are ever going to look into his eyes – _really_ look – and see that there’s absolutely nothing in there anymore.

Dean’s never careless – doesn’t ever do anything sloppy like call out his name. He’s got things kept under a tighter lid than that. Besides, it’s not like he could ever let himself forget.

Most of the women try to give him their numbers. A few tell him to find them on Kik, whatever that is. 

The first couple girls, he tries to give the brush-off. But after a while he finds he doesn’t want to deal with offended faces and recently-discarded blouses chucked at his face, so he starts playing along. He’ll pull out his phone and mindlessly hit a few random buttons as they dictate. Then he’ll smile again, maybe wink, maybe pull them in for one more kiss.

Then he’ll drive home and lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Sam always waits up for him; Dean usually finds him sitting at a table in the library, with an empty tumbler and a half-empty bottle.

Neither of them ever say anything. Most of the time Sam barely even looks at him, he just stands and heads off to his own room the moment Dean reaches the bottom of the stairs. Sometimes he takes the bottle with him, sometimes he leaves it behind.

Either way, it’s always empty by morning.

This isn’t coping. There is no ‘coping.’ At this point Dean’s just trying to stay alive.

So it becomes the new routine. He goes out, he charms and he lies, easy as anything. He flirts. He gets flirted with.

One night, he almost goes down on a guy in a grimy bar bathroom, but he chickens out at the last minute.

The guy has dark hair, but his eyes are brown. It feels too much like a betrayal.

(Of course, fucking the women is a betrayal too, but it’s a betrayal of a different sort, and one he’s learned to live with.)

He leaves the guy standing there and bolts for the parking lot.

That’s the only time he lets the tears fall: driving home, his eyes burning and vision so blurred he’s surprised he doesn’t drive clear off the road.

He’s almost always surprised by that, these days.


End file.
